


You Leave Me Breathless

by Andian



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Breathplay, Collar, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Power Imbalance, pet play undertones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 07:15:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30018117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andian/pseuds/Andian
Summary: "You brought a collar," Jacob says, feeling weirdly amused. He had almost forgotten how he had called Pratt a dog this morning. "Want me to put a leash on you, peaches?""Found it in the supply room, wanted to ... wanted to throw it away. Must have forgotten to," Pratt stutters out. It feels like the truth, Jacob thinks. Or at least it feels like it should be the truth.But when he looks up from the collar, he finds Pratt staring at him.
Relationships: Staci Pratt/Jacob Seed
Kudos: 21





	You Leave Me Breathless

It starts out as a joke. One of his soldiers grumbling about Pratt, mumbling that he'd be of more use to the Project if they could just feed him to the dogs. Jacob almost laughs. "They wouldn't touch him," he drawls, startling the soldier who hadn’t noticed him standing behind her. "Dogs don't eat their own kind. The Judges maybe, they look like they'd like a taste." 

Next to him Pratt's breathing hitches, the way it always does when Jacob casually threatens to kill him. Smart enough though to keep quiet at this point, to stop his hands from shaking too badly. Jacob likes that. This sign of just how much control he has over Pratt, his head and body. 

"Don't worry," he says casually as they keep walking, leaving his soldiers to their work. "An obedient dog doesn't need to be put down." He can see the way Pratt flinches at that before he forces his body to still. He'll have to train that out of him too, Jacob thinks vaguely. Those signs of fear. He knows Pratt is scared off him, can see it every time their eyes meet for even a brief moment. As he should be but Jacob needs Pratt to function. To follow commands immediately instead of flinching whenever addressed directly. 

A good dog doesn’t hesitate when its master gives an order, he thinks and it’s a fitting comparison, the more he thinks about it. 

"Heel," Jacob says and for a moment Pratt looks confused before understanding flickers in his eyes. He walks quicker, catching up with Jacob who hands him the folder he had been carrying without looking.

"Check the food supply for the Judges," he orders. "Report to me this evening.

"Y-yes Jacob," Pratt mumbles, staring at his feet as he walks next to Jacob. Browbeaten and cowering and Jacob hopes he hasn't quite managed to beat the bark out of him just yet.

"Good dog," Jacob says and delights in the brief flash of spiteful fury in Pratt's eyes at the mockery. He averts his eyes before Jacob can look deeper, try to fan that anger into something useful for the Project.

It doesn't matter, Jacob thinks. He has time enough to turn Pratt into the person he needs to be for Eden's Gate. For him. He doesn't rush the training of his Judges either, after all. He dismisses Pratt with a hand wave and spends the rest of the day in his office, busy with various administrative tasks. So occupied is he in trying to streamline patrol routes, that he is almost surprised when there is a knock at the door.

The sun had started setting, which he only realizes when he looks up from his paper work. "Yes," he says towards the door and it is slowly opened by Pratt.

Jacob turns half towards him, waits silently as Pratt stops a few feet away from his desk. Avoiding his eyes like always as if not seeing means he could pretend he wasn't actually here.

"The report?" 

But still snapping to attention, shoulders straightening to stop the tremor running through his body the moment Jacob addresses him. Pratt starts, voice shaking slightly as he rattles of supply lists of meat and Bliss. Jacob makes a note when he is done to ask Faith for another delivery of Bliss soon. They are running low and they need the Judges more than ever now that the Reaping had started. 

He notices Pratt's hands when he looks up again. "What's that?" he asks, nodding at the thing Pratt is holding, almost clinging to. Pratt looks down, expression faintly surprised as if he hadn't expected to see his own hands.

His hands, Jacob had observed, that only ever seem to stop shaking when Jacob presses a knife or a gun into them. Even now, holding what Jacob is now recognizing as a tattered dog's collar, there is a slight tremor running through them.

"Brought me a collar," he says, feeling weirdly amused. He had almost forgotten how he had called Pratt a dog this morning. "Want me to put a leash on you, peaches?"

"Found it in the supply room, wanted to ... wanted to throw it away. Must have forgotten to," Pratt stutters out. It feels like the truth, Jacob thinks. Or at least it feels like it should be the truth. But when he looks up from the collar, he finds Pratt staring at him. 

Jacob stills. He knows Pratt, inside and outside, mind and body. Had worked to break him into a thousand little pieces that obeyed, that followed orders, that would not betray the Project or Jacob. Had taught him to be a good dog. 

But the way Pratt's hand look around a gun, how he had passed the trials - one, two, three, one, two, three - how when it had come to the final test Pratt hadn't hesitated… 

Jacob hadn't taught him that. 

Sometimes Pratt looks at him as if he knows that. Looks the way he does now. Pratt's eyes flicker away, back down to the collar in his hands and Jacob doesn't think he brought the collar here by chance.

Maybe thinking he could make a deal, Jacob ponders as he slowly stands up. Pratt watches him warily but the hands around the collar have stopped shaking. Jacob doesn't believe he'd be so stupid as to think this would work. There are no deals to be made here, only orders to be followed.

Pratt's hands give away easily as Jacob pulls the collar out of them. Maybe a trick, trying to catch Jacob off-guard, stop the jokes.

He turns the collar in his hands, examining it. It is a dark red, slightly torn in one place. Still functional but too much in danger of ripping if put around a Judge's neck.

Jacob is close enough to hear Pratt's breathing quicken. When he looks up, Pratt meets his eyes for one brief moment and all Jacob can think of suddenly are Pratt's hand around a gun. 

One, two, three.

And then very slowly Pratt raises his head. Shows off his throat and Jacob stares at it, almost transfixed. 

Or maybe, he think, this is something else entirely. 

The collar unbuckles easily. Jacob has done this so many times before, on animals much less amicable than Pratt. Slowly he puts the collar around Pratt's throat, can feel the man swallow faintly, spasms against his fingers as he lets them slowly wander back to the collar's buckle. It clicks close and he can almost feel the soft breath that escapes Pratt. 

There is a certain satisfaction every time he sees a collar on a wolf, around the neck of future Judge. So much raw power and strength given direction, turning it into a weapon he can use.

It's both the same feeling and something completely different when he steps back to take in the collar around Pratt's neck. 

It's a bit too big, the collar sitting loosely around his throat, the dark red a stark contrast against the paleness of Pratt's skin and for a moment Jacob thinks of blood.

Underneath his stare Pratt both seems to want to shrink away and stand straight and Jacob can’t help the amused smirk curling on his lips.

"A natural fit," he says. "Such a good dog." Pratt's fist clenches and unclenches at his words but he raises his head and looks straight at Jacob. 

There is something dark settling in his eyes and it makes Jacob want to grab him by the collar. Hold it tight until he had found him a knife and some enemies to point at and then watch as Pratt rips their throats out for him.

He can't do that just yet. But he can do this. He reaches out and Pratt does not flinch away from him and if he had known that all it took was a collar to turn Pratt into an obedient dog, he might have done it earlier.

There is enough give in the collar for Jacob's hand to grip, to hold on tightly and then pull.

A sharp intake of breath from Pratt and his eyes are dark, pupils completely blown as he stares at Jacob. Something hot flashes through Jacob at the sight.

"Good boy," and his voice sounds rough to his own ears. His hand around the collar tightens, not completely due to his own command, and Pratt makes a choked sound, breath turning laboured as Jacob restricts his breathing.

But he still looks at Jacob with those dark, dark eyes and Jacob's fingers are itching to keep pulling. Tighten the collar around Pratt's neck until all he can feel is the pressure of it and the knowledge that it's Jacob doing this to him.

"Down, peaches," he says instead and it seemingly takes Pratt a moment to understand what Jacob is telling him to do, how he is telling him to do it.

He sinks to his knees without hesitation though when he does. Jacob keeps his grip on the collar, lowers his hand slightly with the movement. Once Pratt is kneeling in front of him, staring at his shoes, he pulls again.

Another choked noise coming from Pratt as his head is forced up. Another flush of heat, satisfaction mixing with arousal and Jacob curls his fingers around the collar, pulling tighter 

Pratt gasps, mouth falling open as he struggles to breathe. His face is flushed, blood flowing to his cheeks and forehead and a soft groan escapes his mouth, one he tries to stifle immediately.

But Jacob knows Pratt, knows his body and his mind better than the man himself at this point and he is the one who is pulling those sounds out of Pratt in the first place. He almost knows even before he looks down that Pratt is hard, the shape of his stiff cock visible in his pants. His own cock is equally hard, straining against his boxer shorts.

He keeps pulling at the collar, keeps choking Pratt who has given up on trying to hold back his sounds, panting loudly instead. His other hand reaches for his pants, manages to unzip himself with one hand, pulls his jeans down.

Pratt's eyes, foggy and almost completely dark now, focus a bit when Jacob pulls out his cock.

His mouth is already open but when Jacob pulls at the collar, pulling him towards his cock, it obediently falls open even more, taking Jacob's cock inside his mouth without hesitation.

Jacob almost blanks out at the feeling of tight heat and wetness around his cock. He pulls Pratt closer, buries himself deep inside his throat. He has to suppress a shudder when Pratt chokes, swallowing reflexively around his cock, the tight wetness contracting. It's both his cock and the collar, still pulling on Pratt's throat, still cutting off his air supply.

It would be easiest to keep Pratt's head in place with the help of it, to just fuck into his mouth. Jacob doesn't do easy though. And so he roughly pulls Pratt away from his cock, eliciting another choked gasp, as Pratt is almost strangled with the force of it.

Pratt stares up at him with an almost confused expression if his eyes weren’t so unfocused. The red from his cheeks had spread towards his lips, equally red now, wet with spit and Jacob's precum. So much red, Jacob thinks. He likes it on Pratt.

Roughly he pulls Pratt forward again, back against his cock. Pratt follows willingly and Jacob stops immediately, pulling him back instead. Another confused look but then a flicker of realization in his glassy eyes when Jacob pulls him towards his cock again. This time Pratt stays put, even tries to pull away from Jacob's forceful movement.

Jacob relinquishes the way the collar pulls on Pratt's neck, the gasping sound as his air supply is once more cut short, muffled once Jacob's pulls him all the way back on his cock.

He keeps moving Pratt's head with the collar, choking him every time and Pratt moves against it, helping Jacob choke him.

It's far from a good way to get a blowjob. He can't quite control Pratt's movements the way he needs to with just the collar, he doesn't allow Pratt to stay still long enough to actually suck on his cock, actually has to stop a few times to allow him to breath for a few moments.

But Pratt makes choking sounds and his throat is tight around his cock as Jacob grabs the collar so tightly it leaves white imprints on his palm.

He comes like this, unable to stop himself from thrusting at least once, burying himself deep inside Pratt's throat. Pulling him closer yet with the collar, choking him once more as Pratt has nowhere else to move.

Pratt swallows obediently and Jacob almost feels robbed when he lets his spilled cock slip out of Pratt’s mouth. There is silence in the room then, nothing but Pratt's ragged breathing as he tries to catch his breath.

There are angry red bruises around Pratt's neck where the collar has choked him and a part of Jacob wants to reach out for them, to feel them and ensure the red he had put on Pratt is real.

But Jacob, hand still around the collar, pulls once more instead, forces Pratt to his legs. Pratt stumbles, almost falls down as he rises and Jacob doesn't loosen the grip on his collar one moment.

"Good," Jacob whispers. "Good dog." He reaches out for Pratt, presses his other hand against Pratt’s groin, rubbing his leaking cock.

Pratt's hip stutter forward, trying to get more friction. Jacob would have to let go of Pratt's collar to open his pants, get his dick out.

He won't do that. He doesn't think Pratt minds. Instead he starts rubbing him through his pants, rough and too forceful probably, all while pulling once more on Pratt's collar.

It's enough. Pratt's body shakes as he comes and Jacob pulls his hand away as he feels Pratt's wet cum against it. 

He wipes his hand on Pratt's jeans and then at last he lets go off his collar. Just stares at Pratt for a long moment, whose eyes are still dark, his face and neck and everything so red.

My red, Jacob thinks.

"Such a good dog."

My dog.

Pratt opens his mouth as if to say something but nothing comes out. Whether it's his nerves catching up with him or just the fact that Jacob had ruined his throat in more ways than one, Jacob doesn’t know.

"Tell Charles that we need another Bliss delivery," he says, stepping away from him. Saving Pratt from having to find his own words. Turning away from him and towards his desk Jacob tucks himself back into his trousers. He doesn't think he needs to tell Pratt to get new clothes before he does so.

"Clean yourself up first." Does it anyway. He can see Pratt close his mouth out of the corner of his eyes, swallow heavily.

"Yes, Jacob," he then says. His voice sounds like sand paper and there is a grimace of pain when he talks. It makes Jacob want to get his hand right back on the collar.

Instead he just nods, forces himself to concentrate on the papers he had been working on before Pratt had come in.

He waits for the sound of the door opening and closing but it doesn't come. Instead there are steps approaching his desk and when he looks to the side, Pratt is standing there.

Slightly raising his head, showing off the collar still around his neck. And he could take it off himself, Jacob knows. As does Pratt.

He reaches out for Pratt almost on auto-pilot, unbuckling the collar. His fingers brush Pratt’s neck as he does so and his skin fells hot under them. 

Holding the collar in his hands, Jacob stares the red leather that looks much less vibrant, now that it was not longer wrapped around Pratt's neck.

Without really thinking about it, he presses the collar into Pratt's hands. Pratt stares at him, looking confused and surprised.

"Good dogs know when to obey," Jacob says. Understanding dawns in Pratt's eyes and for a moment they seem to turn dark again.

"Yes Jacob," Pratt says and then he steps away, letting the collar slip into his pocket. And as Jacob watches him leave, he is sure he hasn't seen the last of it.


End file.
